The Magic Collection
by Wil1969
Summary: A bunch of One Shots with the "Magic" theme...
1. Chapter 1

Wil1969's "Magic" Collection

 _A bunch of One Shots with the "Magic" theme, written from Merlin's pov..._

 _Free_

High on a horse, riding through the Darkling Woods on a sunny day gives me a sense of freedom that I never experience while being in Camelot. My continues dread has evaporated, all the feelings of destiny and doom, of lies and deceit, of having to hide who I really am in fear that I might be found out, burned at the stake for being born with magic.

The wind blows through my hair and fills my lungs, while my horse knows exactly where I want to go. She knows this path, and I feel at one with her fluid movements. The trees and bushes pass us by in a blur of Earthly colours. I can smell fresh dirt, fragrances of flowers and herbs, and it's like every depressing thought is leaving my body and mind. The forest is cleansing it from my very soul.

The trees open up right in front of us, and in a gallop we rush over the green hills towards the north. Not far to go to reach our destination. I can always sense it miles before we get there, as it brings a smile to my face that I can't hide.

I remember feeling like this for the first time. Arthur and I were on one of our hunting trips, on our way back home when we passed it. It startled me at first, the intense happiness that overcame me so sudden left me choking away tears. Tears that Arthur would most definitely not understand. He doesn't understand me most of the time, not even without magical involvement.

My horse comes to a halt near a small brook of water and an ancient solitary oak tree. I take a deep breath in through the nose while dismounting. This is the place where I often go now, a place full of peace and healing magical qualities, where I can be myself and feel deep inside who I really am. The real Merlin comes to the surface in the shade of this tree.

It is a place where no one will disturb me while I read ancient books, or practice my abilities. The giant tree the only witness, vibrating a knowledge that overcomes me with peace every time.

Yes, this is the place where I come to feel free...


	2. Chapter 2

_The Prince and I_

Most of the time I don't understand what brings me back to Arthur's side, constantly. Of course the dragon told me it's my destiny to look out for the Prince, of course Gaius keeps telling me that it's the purpose for my magical gift, and of course I listen to their constant advice.

But still, it's somewhat of a phenomenon I don't get. I don't get why I find myself on my way to the Prince's chambers while he's been the most outrageous arrogant fool, telling me I am an idiot and all sorts of other unflattering names, just an hour earlier.

What on Earth am I doing, and why? I ask this of myself at least ten times a day when it's been a particularly bad week. When I find myself cleaning his chambers, his chainmail, his stables, his clothes, and there is not even one small word of gratitude leaving his mouth. I save his neck multiple times, and what do I get in return? Him telling me I'm stupid. Him throwing food at my head. And there's no way I can use magic to teach him a lesson, which makes it all very frustrating as well.

No, there must be something that is driving me to him. I have thought it over for a while, trying to get to the bottom of it. Thinking hard about the dragon's words. 'One can never truly hate what makes it whole.' But what if my magic has a bigger part in this than I like to admit? No servant I know has such a strong bound with his master, not even with a friend or a brother most of the time. It's a bound I can't describe.

Even when he's being totally unreasonable, making me do all these chores, throwing things at me, I can sense something inside of him, underneath all the bravado. It's hard to miss at times, but it's most certainly there. I think it's my magic that makes it so clear for me to see. His honour, loyalty, fairness and bravery, and his friendship.

And there is one thing that I have found out the hard way already...

My magic hurts when I am not around Arthur.


	3. Chapter 3

_Surprise_

The small blue pebble sized lights swirl around my fingertips. It tickles and warms not only my fingers, but my whole body. It's a swirl of at least a dozen lights, wavering, pulsating and jumping off my hands while they chase each other around the room. My room.

I know I shouldn't use magic like this, but it's so exhilarating, so much fun. And this time it does have a reason why I am making these lights, although I am exaggerating a little, as I only need one. One candle on the cake I baked for Gaius's birthday. And one vibrant light to make it look special. Yes, I told you I was exaggerating producing a whole bunch of them.

Moving my hands in different patterns, the lights follow easily, dancing around, creating a spectacular light show. I'm feeling awed at my own ability to generate these intriguing figures and motions, and I forget everything around me, totally focused on what else I can make them do.

Suddenly the door to my room flies open, making me jump out of my skin. I hear Gaius' stern words shouting in my head, about the use of magic in Camelot, about it getting me killed one day if I'm not careful. Cold air washes over me, the lights disappear at once and I freeze. I should have locked the door, why haven't I locked the door...

I turn around and come face to face with Lancelot, who smiles at me in his reassuring way, the way he always does when he wants to tell people that everything is all right. I swallow hard and a small hysterical chuckle leaves my lips. If this would have been Arthur. I don't even want to think about it.

"What are you doing?" Lancelot closes and locks the door behind him. More sensible than me when it comes to this, there is no denying it. I'm such an idiot.

Finding my voice I stutter, "creating a surprise for Gaius. It's his birthday, and he thinks I have forgotten all about it."

"And of course you haven't." Lancelot grins widely, and it's infectious, making me forget the fact that this could have ended in a really bad way.

"Nope." I grin back at him.

"You might want to lock your door next time, though."

"I know, I'm sorry."

"No harm done," Lancelot lays his hand on my shoulder. "Gaius is going to love it."

"Are you sure?"

"Definitely."


	4. Chapter 4

_Unicorn_

There's a toy hiding under my bed. It's my favourite toy, but mother said that it likes to hide under the bed because it feels save there, while I am not around to play with him or take care of him. I call him Boaz because mother told me it means swift and strong, and my unicorn is both of those things. I have never seen a real unicorn before, but I know that mother has, and she knitted Boaz from different colours of wool. I do not mind that he isn't white, because his colours show me that he is very special, just like me.

Mother gave him to me when I was still very little. She made me promise to keep Boaz save and not show him to my friend Will, or to everyone else in our village for that matter. Boaz is very shy and doesn't like a lot of attention. He has magic, just like me. Mother said we are only allowed to use our magic inside the house, because it frightens other people. I don't mind, but Boaz can get cranky when he is not allowed to go outside and play.

Will has a toy as well, a wooden sword that was given to him by his father. He loves hitting trees with it, but I don't really understand why he does that. The trees are not too happy about it either. I do not think Will would like Boaz very much, so instead I showed him my wooden horse. Horse was cut out of a piece of wood by my father before I was born, so he is very old.

One day I will meet my father, although I have no idea what he looks like. I just have to go out into the world and find him. If Boaz will be with me, no harm will come to us. He will keep us save, and father will be proud of us both when we find him.

And one day I will also meet a real unicorn, and I know it will be very special. We will recognise each other through our magic, and I will show him my house and Boaz. People in our village will want to be our friends, and mother will get many visitors.

I know Boaz would like that, he just has to get over being so shy...


	5. Chapter 5

_Do not expect anything_

I'm hopeless. A powerful Warlock, but a failure. All I ever do is lie to my friends, and hide myself from who I really am. Hide the real Merlin in the shadows of my own mind, making sure that he comes across as a clumsy servant who can't even find his own backside, while in fact I desperately need to learn more about the craft of magic, of my powers, and my destiny. The clumsy young man I portray is so entwined with the Warlock at times, that when it's a matter of life and death, either instinctive magic takes over, or I trip over my own feet mumbling spells that come out all wrong, but work out in the end with a bit of luck. Gaius calls it skill, but it's far from that and I know it.

One day, my luck will run out. How can I be this Warlock, when I feel the way I do? When I know deep inside my heart that it will never be enough? That I can't achieve what they expect me to achieve? It's all so easy for Gaius and Kilgharrah to tell me to have faith, to believe in myself and believe in my magical abilities. But how do I do that? Every time I try to intervene, to stop horrible things from happening, destiny appears around the corner and laughs in my face making me feel ridiculous and insecure.

A lot of times I wish that Lancelot was still alive. I could talk to him about my magic without any restraint, without holding back on my fears and insecurities. And he always listened, without any judgment, without expecting anything from me. Without actually knowing about my destiny, but seeing the real me, and still wanting to be my friend.

Of course I respect Gaius and his guidance, and I know he means well, and I love him dearly. And of course I mostly feel at ease with the Knights, Arthur and Gwen. But one day I hope to find a friend again, like Lancelot.

Someone who knows about my magic, and who I can turn to when I am not liking myself very much, at all...


	6. Chapter 6

_Mice_

If there is one thing that Arthur hates, it's mice or rats in his chambers. He's not scared of them, he says, but every time there's so much as a trace of one, he screams at me at the top of his lungs to come and get rid of it. And if I don't catch it within a day, he refuses to go to sleep. I swear, it feels like I am dealing with a little kid at times. And who's up all night to catch mice? Yes, of course. Me!

I think it's time, for once and for all, to help Arthur over his inner 'micely' struggles...

Arthur fell asleep just moments ago, when I quietly sneak into the servant's chamber, where I have seen a tiny mouse today. I sprinkled some bread crumbs on the floor in an attempt to lure it out. If I catch it I may be able to train it with magic, to make it tame and let Arthur see that there's nothing scary about mice. Not that he would ever admit he hates the little furry critters, but it's my only chance of getting a decent night's sleep.

I found a spell last night that will render the mouse unconscious at first, not doing it any harm.

Impatiently waiting on a chair in the corner of the room, I peer at the small hole that the mouse has made in the wooden panel near the narrow bed, that stands against the wall. I can't help but yawn when moments turn into a long boring waiting game.

Finally the mouse appears. Its round black shiny eyes eying the bread crumbs, its little nose following the trail I left. It's now or never. If I hesitate it will disappear right into that hole again.

Whispering the spell, the mouse stops dead in his tracks, lets out a tiny squeak and does exactly the opposite of what I had intended for the spell to do. It multiplies into another mouse. And another one. Now I know why I shouldn't practice new spells when I'm tired. No, no, this is not happening.

I jump off my chair and quickly whisper another spell to make them vanish, when two of them suddenly turn bright green, sprout little wings and start buzzing around the room, flying out the open door into Arthur's chambers, squeaking even louder as in mirth. I berate myself for thinking that last silly thought. Mice mirth. A chuckle escapes me before I quickly but silently run into Arthur's chambers.

I come to a sudden halt when I see that Arthur is sitting up in his bed, his eyebrows raised and his mouth slightly open, while he eyes the two mice flying around the ceiling, blinking in apparent confusion. Oh, I'm in big trouble now.

"Onsleape nu." On little more than instinct, desperate to save my neck, I mutter it with my hand raised towards the Prince, who hasn't seen me yet, and the man immediately falls back on his pillow like a sack of turnips, snoring softly...

That was close, really close.

I mutter to myself about my own stupidity, while I let out a deep breath of air. I need to stop and think, and really let these mice vanish before Arthur wakes up again. I know I have until morning, so I think it's best to lock Arthur's door and find my spell book. I don't even want to think about asking Gaius. He'll have my head, or worse, he gives me the; 'Gaius eyebrow of doom.' The mice fly around my head, one almost landing on top of it, and I swear it's laughing at me.

Of course in the end I managed to let them vanish, wings and all. Took me longer than expected, so when Arthur finally opens his eyes while the sun is already peeping through the curtains, I hide my spell book behind my back, a forced grin plastered on my face.

"Good morning, Sire."

He looks at me with accusation in his blue eyes. "I had the weirdest dream. Green mice were flying across the room, chasing each other. And you know what, _Merlin_? It's your fault. We had mice scampering around for weeks now. No wonder I dream about them. Why can't you get rid of one tiny mouse for once?"

I let out a sigh in despair...


	7. Chapter 7

_The Essence of Magic_

The wind creates ripples on the surface of the lake of Avalon. I can see the water twirling in tiny waves as the wind pushes them to the other side, to the horizon, far away. The wind also blows through my hair. I can feel it as it gently strokes my face, blowing strands of unruly wet dark locks from my forehead and out of my eyes. We all know the wind exists, we never question it. But we cannot see the wind itself, or touch it. We only see or feel what the wind brings.

Far away in the distance a dark cloud drifts away from me, blown away by the wind. Only just moments ago it was raining on me, and while I am standing here, all wet and shivering in the breeze, a rainbow stretches itself out over the lake. It's colours appear out of nowhere, like someone came along and painted them into the sky. It's a phenomenon I have seen many times, but I am still trying to find an explanation for it. One day I am certain I will.

There are enough people in this world, who do not believe in magic. Also enough people who find it dangerous and disturbing. They fear it enough to prosecute and condemn magical folk. But do they also question the wind? A thing they cannot see? Do they question a rainbow in the sky?

Being close to nature, is being close to the essence of magic. There is no explanation needed, it just is. Many may believe that magic is all spells and enchantments, and most will never find out how wrong they are. Magic is the wind blowing through your hair, creating ripples on the water...


	8. Chapter 8

_Awaiting_

Every time he walks this familiar path, and he can't even count the endless times anymore where a feeling of complete and utter loneliness would overwhelm him once again, and his search for guidance, peace and knowledge would lead him here. Every time he sets foot inside this cave, the loneliness seems to evaporate entirely, and it feels like getting a fix. A blend of pulsating love pushes its way through his veins, while magical energy radiates from the palms of his hands. It has been doing so for centuries, never faltering and certainly never less powerful than before.

The Crystal cave, still hidden to all men but him. Hidden in the forest of Mercia not far from the town of Brownhills. A place that was called the valley of the fallen Kings once. Everything around him has changed, forcing him to change as well, forcing him to hide his magic entirely in the end. A life of solitude, until his destiny will push everything back on the path of hope and love. Hope for the future of Albion, and love for a man he still misses so much that speaking his name out loud will be sending shivers of pain down his spine. His friend, a part of his soul actually, Arthur Pendragon.

It's cool inside, he realises, while sucking in a deep breath of clean air. Bluish, mixed with intense white light radiates from all around, and it feels just right. The only place left in the world that feels like coming home.

He knows what he's searching for. It doesn't take him any effort at all anymore, it's second nature, and raising one hand towards a decent size crystal nearby, he smiles when it springs alive, instantly projecting images of the past to him. It is like quickly turning the pages of a book, and a feeling of contentment rushes over him when they waver at the sight of old friends. People long since gone, but never forgotten.

"Merlin?"

The calm voice doesn't surprise him, doesn't make him turn around to the source anymore. But it does brighten his smile, and it does so every time. It's so much a part of this cave, it's imbedded into its very core. Next to the magic of this place, that voice brings him stability, companionship.

"Father."

"How are you my son?"

"I am searching, and the time seems near."

"You can see?"

"The images get clearer all the time."

"That is wonderful, son."

The last image inside the crystal has always been Arthur. First only images from the past, but lately they are changing into something more. Images from the future. Murky at first, but getting much clearer every time he visits the cave. He knows it doesn't mean that this future will come to pass soon, but he also knows he needs to return here to see it, for it keeps him going, keeps him sane.

Awaiting that time of magic, understanding and love. Awaiting Arthur...


	9. Chapter 9

_The magic of tears_

Sometimes I feel the need to cry...

I sit in a desolate corner deep down in the vaults beneath Camelot, and tears silently make tracks down my cheekbones, wet, warm, and salty. It blurs the glow of the single torch nearby.

No one sees these tears. I don't even show them to Gaius, although I suspect he knows about them already, as these tears always come with a bone deep weariness that doesn't want to wear off after a good night's sleep. Gaius is the only one who can truly see when I am exhausted, even when I try to hide it. He knows me better than I know myself at times.

I don't cry out of grief. Lost loved ones are always with me. I visit Freya regularly at the lake, I still feel a deep connection with my father inside my soul, and at times I think of Lancelot in such a proud way that it makes my heart sing.

Everything is fine. Everything is fine with my friends as well. Everything is fine with Arthur, Gwen and Gaius, and everything is fine with all the knights, who had a long training session this morning. Arthur is running them hard. It's truly been an amazing year for King Arthur and Camelot. It doesn't matter that my magic is still hidden because as long as I can serve and protect Arthur, it's all right. I have been considering it for a while though—if this would be the right time to confess to him, my best friend—but that little voice inside of me has told me more than once that it will make the announcement when it's time. And it's not now.

Everything is fine, but I cry, my breath turning into small hiccups as I try to hold back. I know from experience that holding back doesn't work, and I have no idea why I even make an effort. These tears need to be shed, so I tightly close my eyes, wrap my arms around my legs, and try to push myself into the cold stone wall, the cold stone ground. Time is of no meaning, and because it's in the middle of the night, no one will come in search of me. My friends, who might need me, are warm and safe in their beds.

Opening my eyes, fixed on the torch, I feel a spark inside the tip of my right thumb. Like a tiny shard of lightning, it starts to bounce off my fingers, one by one, illuminating the cave, and mixed with the fire from the torch, it's an orange bluish glow. It's the free use of magic, and it envelops me, drying my tears and warming my being.

Sometimes I feel the need to cry, as crying brings the magic that is suppressed too much at times, that is hushed away and used only in perilous, life or death situations, back into every tiny part of my body.

I cry, and my magic is healed.


	10. Chapter 10

_Immortal_

I have asked the question many times, in as many centuries. Only ever to myself... Is it worth it? It is worth to get attached to someone, may it be a human being or even an animal, knowing that sooner or later I have to say goodbye to them? Sooner or later they die, while I live on. Is that the burden of my immortality, or is it actually a blessing in disguise?

The people who touch my heart – they make me feel alive, they make me want to live for them, but I also gain a lot more from those relationships. They bring love, and a connection that I can't live without. It's like a life line that my being, my soul, has to grab in order to stay sane.

I tried to keep my distance after Arthur had died, not to get too close to anyone. But even though I tried to stop myself from loving, I learned a long time ago that life doesn't work that way. It pulls you up and drags you down – you go with the tidal waves its destiny brings you. You meet the people that enrich your life, and who need you in return.

I still remember all their names, which I feel is a way to honour their spirits. Deep in the forest called Puzzle Wood I have created my very own sanctuary, a place only I can find, a place for me to reflect on life and to think about those who walked into my heart…and never left.

I managed to store the names and part of the essence of every unique soul down into this familiar stone, in this clearing where the sun forever shines because I made it so, where magic still vibrates and where it's peaceful and warm. Whenever I return here, I feel loved.

This is the stone where I once hid Arthur's sword and the place where the King had pulled it out, leading his followers to victory. The golden age of Camelot. The sword lies deep down on the bottom of the Lake of Avalon now, where Freya will keep it safe until Arthur returns.

Arthur's name is buried inside the stone, as are the names of my many friends. Gwen, Gaius, Lancelot, Gwaine, Leon, Percival, my mother. The names of many others, too many to count even, might have faded from another's mind, but I clearly remember each one of them. I cannot forget a single one. My friends speak clearly in my mind when I am having a bad day, encouraging me to keep going, to make new friends, to take in the small enjoyments that life can give. And I take their words and thoughts willingly, with both hands.

The magic of this place and this stone are for me alone. One day I will share this with Arthur. That is one thing I am certain about. One day he will come back and call me a sentimental fool, and on that day I will smile at him, hug him and call him a pompous dollophead.


	11. Chapter 11

_Powerful_

With a flick of his right hand, and a flash of his eyes, the bulky man advancing on him with a smirk on his face, was thrown backwards, hitting his head on the cold stone floor of the semi dark corridor. While carefully stepping over the unconscious man, Merlin, his magical senses on high alert, scanned the long stretching passageway, his gaze falling on a dark door at the end. His goal.

With a snap of two fingers, two more mercenaries jumping out of a corridor to the left were effectively stopped by an invisible magical shield he'd raised around himself. He gritted his teeth when they made impact with the shield, and swatted them out of the way like bothersome flies with another snap.

Why were they even trying to stop him? It didn't make sense. Were they so desperate to guard their hostage, or maybe desperate to die? Merlin sniffed in disdain, while his magic swirled inside of him violently but in victory as well, as if it loved to be set totally free... Finally.

The door was getting closer, and he advanced towards it with huge confident steps. No one was going to stop him from reaching that door. His senses might be scanning the entire length of this corridor, but his focus was solidly on what he had to do.

Two other men rushed towards him from out of nowhere, their swords outstretched, a battle cry on their lips. Merlin instantly clapped both his hands together with a slap, and the two men lost their balance, and bumped into each other with a low thud. Arms and legs flaying, their heads knocked together as they landed in a heap on the floor.

Picking up their swords, Merlin's pace became faster and faster. He was certain that if anyone would stand in his way one more time, he would slam them right across this whole damn passageway. No one was allowed to harm his master, his friend. No one. The desperate thought that his friend might be dead already was quickly dismissed. They wouldn't guard a dead man.

Arriving at the door, he was about to blow it off its hinges in a flash of irritation and fear for his friend, but he caught himself just in time. His whole body was trembling. His magic was still rolling backwards and forwards through his veins, and Merlin let out a deep sigh, trying to calm down.

It took him a moment to find the part of him that he normally showed to the world. Not the powerful Warlock that he actually was, but the clumsy loyal servant of the prince of Camelot. His magic could never be pushed back easily, but at least he had the strength to keep it at bay.

A whispered spell unlocked the door, and it opened with a creaky sound, giving him access to a dense smelly cell. Knowing his friend, he cautiously stepped forward when a familiar voice greeted him.

"Merlin?"

"Arthur, are you all right?" Relief took hold of Merlin's heart when he saw the prince staring at him in a mixture of surprise, disbelief and awe. He looked a little roughed up, but he was alive. Alive!

"How did you..."

Merlin clumsily raised one of the swords, and grinned brightly. "I do know how to handle a sword, thank you very much." Trying to make a point, he raised it higher, only to be hitting the very low ceiling of the cell with a loud clang.

"You were saying?"

"Sorry," he bit his lower lip, sheepishly. "My moves are a little rusty."

Arthur gaped at him for what seemed to be forever. Then he quickly took the second sword that Merlin offered him. "You'll never seize to amaze me, Merlin."

"Thank you, Sire."

Arthur shook his head, while the corners of his mouth betrayed his amusement. "Let's get out of here..."


	12. Chapter 12

_Magic and Pranks_

"Merlin, you clumsy idiot, look what you've done!"

Arthur pushed him away from the large dinner table, where Merlin had just dropped his plate with blueberries and other fruits on the table by accident. A couple of blueberries were falling off the table onto Arthur's lap, making him jump up, pushing Merlin backwards in the process.

Merlin was about to send him a well thought out retort, but as Arthur had dinner with both his father, the King, and Morgana, he bit it back just in time. "I am sorry, Sire."

"You should be." Arthur sat back down, after sending him a scowl.

Could the prince be anymore arrogant or obnoxious? It was at least the fifth time today that Arthur was complaining about his service. His boots were not shiny enough, his bread was old, his sword needed to be sharpened again. Merlin, do this, Merlin, do that. It frustrated Merlin to no end.

One whispered spell was all it took. The goblet of wine in Arthur's hand did a back flip, and taken by surprise, the startled prince, still trying to juggle it with the help of his other hand, lost his grip. The goblet, including the wine, flew into the air and it landed straight on Arthur's pristine white shirt. His favourite shirt.

Uther almost choked on a piece and bread, while Morgana tried in vain to stop a grin from reaching the corners of her mouth at the sight of Arthur's perplexed face.

"Seems to me you are just as clumsy as your servant." Uther noted, gazing from Arthur to Merlin, who was stifling a chuckle. It wasn't a good idea to use magic in front of the King, and even though Arthur had deserved this, and Uther hadn't seen him use it, Merlin was slightly torn between amusement and something else that could only be described as dread.

"But, I..." Arthur turned towards him, the scowl back on his face. But of course he couldn't blame his servant this time, which seemed to make the prince desperate to find a good excuse that, for once, didn't have Merlin's name on it. "I was distracted."

"Maybe you should give Merlin other chores while you eat. He does seem to distract you a lot." Morgana send Arthur a bright smile, and she suggestively blinked at Merlin, who suddenly felt himself blush, furiously. Great, leave it to Morgana to say such things. Thank goodness, Uther was too busy eating his grapes to take any notice. But Merlin could see that Arthur was definitely glowering at her now, which left Morgana totally unaffected.

After Uther had left the table, both Arthur and Morgana stood up to leave as well.

"Well, Merlin, looks like you've got work to do." Arthur smiled at him, and put an arm around his shoulder like they were the best of friends. That couldn't be further away from the truth of course, and Merlin again felt the burden of his destiny. "This shirt needs cleaning."

"Arthur, be nice." Morgana complained, earning her a smile from Merlin.

"I'm always nice," came the answer.

Slamming the door to Gaius' chambers seemed like a good thing to do. At least it made it him think of hitting Arthur's head with it. Maybe it even elicited some sympathy from his guardian?

"What happened?" Gaius, his nose in a huge book, asked. There was no concern in his voice, as if the older man wasn't really interested. It only added to Merlin's mood of wanting to hit something, or somebody.

"I wanted to teach him a lesson."

"Who, Arthur?"

"Yes."

"And, how did that work out for you?"

Merlin slumped down on the steps to his room. "It ended up with me having to wash Arthur's shirt, again," he muttered loudly, feeling useless and irritated to no end. Not just at Arthur, but also at his magic. Every time he used it for fun, or to get back at Arthur, it would come back to teach him a lesson instead. "It's not fair!"

"No one said that life was fair, Merlin," Gaius didn't look up from what he was reading. "Now, get yourself some soup before it gets cold... Oh, and Merlin?" Now the physician did look at him, one eye brow raised in a way that told Merlin that he didn't approve . "You know how I feel about using your magic to play pranks."

"I won't do it again, Gaius," Merlin meant it, he really did. His magic would not take over again whenever he felt tired, irritated or even mad. He had to make himself that promise, not just for Gaius, but for his own sanity. "And this time, you have my word."


	13. Chapter 13

_The Burden of Magic_

How could he have been such an idiot. No, that word didn't even come close to what he was. He was an ignorant, thoughtless fool, someone who deserved to be punished severely for his stupid mistake. He couldn't even call it a mistake. Conjuring that beautiful horse from the smoke had been a calculated use of his magic.

He had felt so low that day, always having to pretend to be someone else, always busy keeping secrets, hiding in plain sight with the fear of a death penalty hanging over his head. Magic should be something beautiful, and it was when he felt it course through his veins, creating moments that warmed his heart. That day he'd had enough of the fear that living in Camelot brought, and the only thing that would cure his loneliness and that fear would be the use of magic. Beautiful magic.

Had he thought about it a while longer, with a clear head, than Gaius wouldn't be in so much trouble right now. It was all his fault, everything inflicted on his mentor, who had become a father figure, and he didn't even want to think what Aredian would do. The witch finder scared him more than he wanted to admit. If the man would hurt Gaius it was all his doing. Merlin, the idiot.

It was this damned self pity that crept up inside of him every now and again. Gaius looked after him, and would give his life for him, as he had proven not so long ago. All he had to do was keep his head low and appreciate what he did have. Gaius' guidance and a home.

Tears had formed in his eyes, making everything blurry while he started cleaning up the mess that was their chambers, their home. For once he didn't have a clue what to do, and he felt more alone than ever. The urge to just sit in a corner and weep wouldn't help Gaius, and if there was anything he could do to save his old friend, he would move heaven and Earth to do so.

What if they found out about his magic? He could blow them all to bits if he wished. That thought alone nestled itself firmly in his exhausted guilty mind, and he swallowed away his tears, a grim look of determination replacing his fear. He was the only one who could save Gaius, and if he would die in the process, so be it. It would be well deserved.

"Merlin?"

It was Gwen, and his thoughts of death and destruction seemed to blow away in the breeze from the opened door, as if he was touched by her soft caring voice that drifted towards him. He was touched even more when she took his arm and gazed up into his eyes. He saw her concerns and his own fear in those dark eyes. But he also saw something else. Strength. She was here to help him, comfort him and whatever his plan would be to free Gaius, she would be there as his friend.

"What are we going to do?" She asked, and it reminded him of the way she once asked him what he was going to do, when Arthur had to fight Valiant and his snakes. This time though, she included herself in that sentence. What 'they' were going to do. Gwen had certainly become less insecure, and her continued friendship warmed him, so much that the tears started to return.

"It's all my fault, Gwen."

She didn't let go of his arm, a stern look in her eyes. "Even if it is, feeling guilty about it will not help Gaius, so pull yourself together."

"But, I don't know what to do." Next to using my magic, but of course he couldn't confess this to Gwen. It was his burden to carry, not hers. If he would tell her, he would put her in danger, and that was something he would never do. He would also never put Gaius' life in danger, but look at him now. Gwen was right of course, feeling guilty didn't help them one bit.

"We will think of something, Merlin, I know we will."

"Can I borrow some of your confidence?" He gave her a little smile, glad to feel he wasn't alone in this, but also very much aware of how hard it would be to right all the wrongs.

"Anytime," She smiled back and then looked around. "Let's further clean this mess, and talk about it."

That was Gwen, always practical. And all that Merlin wanted to belief was that it was going to be fine. That Gaius was going to be fine.

Any other outcome was unthinkable...


	14. Chapter 14

_Letting Go_

Merlin felt himself relax; at least a little bit, the moment he quietly made his way towards the ancient willow. The tall tree was standing in the middle of a sunny clearing. A hanging mass of leafs, almost touching the grass covered ground. It breathed hope and peace, and everything that was good.

A warm wind from the North East made the leafs rustle, while it caressed his face. It provided both comfort and liveliness. His magic reacted to it, like a never ending life source that poured energy into his body and soul.

This was a place he always came to when he felt down. Arthur had written a list of chores, the size of Merlin's leg, and complained, again, about the most idiotic things in life, like his pillow not being fluffy enough, as if it was Merlin's fault. It was a good thing he finally learned to be patient with the Prince after more than two years. But at times, he wanted to scream.

It was all in a day's work though, and normally this wouldn't be too upsetting for him. Yes, he would pout, maybe rant about it, even feel sorry for himself, just a bit, before moving on. Otherwise he wouldn't have been able to work for Arthur, at all.

But today was different...

He had lost his father, just a couple of days ago. A man he'd only briefly met, but who had touched his life in a way that had such an impact on him, he would never forget, as long as he lived. In his dreams of late, the man's kind eyes would penetrate his own, both curious and kind, before the little flames inside of them were blown out, leaving Merlin alone, in the dark.

His dreams also included Freya, the druid girl, who died in his arms. He would never forget her either, as his love for her had been the strongest love he'd ever felt. These dreams were sweet, and full of hugs and kisses, until he woke up, realising that she was no more. Almost every day it left a lump in his throat, big enough that he; more often than not, left to do his chores without breakfast.

Merlin wondered why everyone of significance in his life was dying to soon. He had thought about that a lot lately. He even feared getting out of bed in the morning, just because he was scared to find Gaius, dead in his bed, or Arthur, killed by an assassin while he wasn't around. That fear crept into his very bones, making him physically ill, wondering if he was cursed.

The willow seemed to listen to his thoughts, and troubles, as the wind made its leafs move in what almost felt like eagerness, while Merlin sat down under them, in the cooling shade of the afternoon. Closing his eyes, swallowing a sob, he wished he could stop his negative circle of thoughts. They didn't do him any good, and they certainly wouldn't be of any help protecting Arthur.

But the image of Freya flashing through his mind; her lovely smile, dying and fading away, he wasn't even sure it was worth the effort to try and stop his train of thoughts. Maybe he should just let his feelings roam free, not matter if they were depressing?

" _Let it go..."_

"Wha... what?"

Opening his eyes in surprise to the whispering voice, he immediately saw the moving figure of a horse walking onto the clearing. It wasn't the first time he'd seen a unicorn, but the sight of this one was stunning. The light fell on its manes, and its eyes were sparkling as if it had been talking to Merlin just now. But that was impossible. Or was it?

Merlin stayed very still, his eyes following the animal's movement until it stopped in front of him, its head bowed down. A tiny sniffle left the unicorn's soft nose, as if it acknowledged Merlin's emotions.

"Did you..." Merlin started. "Did you talk to me?"

" _Yes, Emrys, I did."_ The voice in his head was of exquisite quality, as if it sparkled and shimmered, so calm, so sweet. It almost instantly made him feel relaxed, a little sleepy even. _"You need to let go, to move on."_

"But, it's so hard..." Merlin heard himself mumble, but from very far away. Why was he so drowsy all of a sudden? Maybe a nap would do him good. Make him forget, for a while? Yes, this was definitely a nice place to sleep, and be one with the trees and animals around him.

" _I will always be here for you, if you need me."_ The voice of the unicorn promised.

At that, Merlin felt his lips curl into a smile, while he closed his eyes, and drifted away to a magical place where there was only understanding and warmth. The willow tree and the unicorn would keep away his nightmares, he knew, while he let go...


	15. Chapter 15

_Keep it a Secret_

The tiny apple made a popping sound while it rapidly shrunk, and back again to its original size.

'Pop...'

Another apple managed to do the same, and 'pop,' another...

Merlin's face lit up in a huge smile. Instead of one finger, he moved his whole hand at the dozen apples hovering in front of him. A chuckle of excitement and fun escaped him when all the apples shrunk at once and returned to normal.

'Poppoppoppopopppp...'

"What 'are' you doing?"

The voice of Gaius startled him out of his concentration, and the apples ended up on the floor. One or two were teasingly rolling across the floorboards of his bedroom, to end up at Gaius' feet. Merlin knew he wore a guilty look when he quickly lowered his hand, and he knew he was in trouble. It was the way Gaius had raised his voice, and it was definitely the way he raised his eyebrow.

"I was.."

"Yes?" Gaius' face had the resemblance of a thundercloud. "Think carefully before you lie to me."

"Well, It wasn't what you think, I..."

"You were using magic."

"Uhm."

"How can you be so stupid, you know it's forbidden!" Gaius turned red in the face, hands crossing over his chest. "I told you, how many times? Do you want to get yourself killed? What if it had been Arthur walking through the door?"

"But..."

"But what?"

"You gave me your magical book," Merlin's initial excitement, turning to guilt, now turned into anger in a heartbeat. "How do you expect me to practice my skills, if I can't even use magic in my own room?"

Gaius let out a deep sigh. "You are allowed to practice, when I'm in my chambers, and when you're ready with your chores, and, most important, you locked the door of your room."

"Ready with my chores?" Merlin piped, feeling underappreciated and upset, "that means like, never."

"Really?" Gaius didn't sound sympathetic, at all.

"It's not fair, Arthur has me running around all day, than you have me running around all evening, and at night I'm so exhausted, I don't even remember being alive." Merlin was whining, but he couldn't help it. Magic only came natural to him, and to suppress it, all day, wasn't always easy. Gaius, of all people, should know.

"I feel for you."

"Gaius, I'm sorry, I really am, but magic's like breathing to me," Merlin suddenly felt the need to explain, to make the old man see how he really felt. "It's so hard to stop doing what comes natural to me, it's so..."

Words weren't enough to explain this, and as he struggled to find them, his anger ebbed away and was replaced by sadness. In fact he was about to burst out in tears, and swallowed hard to keep his emotions in check. No need to bother Gaius with it after all. He wouldn't understand, no one ever understood. The fear constantly followed him around Camelot, the fear that his secret might be discovered. Magic was the only thing that helped him to relax, to handle this place. If he couldn't use it, he didn't want to be here anymore.

He felt a hand on his shoulder, realising Gaius was looking at him, the scowl on his face replaced by one of love. There were no questions in those eyes, no judgement. Just compassion and support.

"Come here, my boy"

Before Merlin could step back or utter a protest, Gaius' arms were firmly wrapped around him, making him even more emotional.

"I do love you, you know," Gaius freely admitted. "I wouldn't want to lose you."

"I love you too," Merlin heard himself mumble into the old man's shoulder, feeling slightly embarrassed about his moment of weakness, stepping back to give them both some space. "I'll be very careful next time, I promise."

"Good." Gaius replied, his steady gaze a comfort this time. "But please, keep it a secret."

"That you love me?" Merlin couldn't help but grin, and it felt good.

When Gaius walked to the door, Merlin could see a tiny smile tugging at the corner of the man's lips, and he knew everything would be all right.

"You know what I mean, Merlin. You know what I mean."


	16. Chapter 16

_Broomsticks_

The ridiculous thought had first occurred when Merlin was sweeping the floor of his chamber on a clear warm evening. The broom firm in hand, he could still hear Arthur's voice inside his head.

"Have you never heard the story, Merlin?"

"But it's..."

"It's true, father has seen one fly not long ago."

"Witches do not fly around on broomsticks."

"Have you any solid reason to doubt my father's stories, your king, I might add?"

"Well..."

"Think carefully before you speak."

"How is it even possible to 'sit' on a stick?"

"It's magic, Merlin, there doesn't have to be an obvious reason."

"That doesn't mean it's pain free."

Arthur had raised a finger into his face at that point, meaning the conversation was over, and he was an idiot for questioning the prince and his father. But witches on broomsticks?

Yes, it was a very silly notion. Just the idea people, even magical, could fly around on a broom was hilarious. Even if it could be done, what would be the use of it? How many witches would even dare to fly over Camelot, in fear of being shot down by an arrow? It's not as if he wanted to disregard what Uther had seen, or claimed he had seen, but yes, it was totally ridiculous.

Or was it?

Merlin could move objects around since before he could walk. But could he actually move something while taking place on it? Would his magic be strong enough for such an accomplishment? It didn't even need a spell. Just thinking about it, would make it move. It was as easy as breathing to him.

Looking at the broom in his hands, he suddenly felt excited. If he could move just a couple of feet off the floor, that would be utterly amazing. He wasn't only overly excited, he was also very curious when he lifted one hand and concentrated. And yes, the broomstick first seemed to keel over, but then it stopped and stayed up horizontally, as if stuck in mid air.

The broom hovered slightly, while Merlin carefully stepped over it. One leg on either side. It swayed a bit when he took a seat, but didn't fall down. The magical thought in his mind was strong enough to support both the broom and himself. Amazing.

Was it comfortable? No. But as he took the stick into two hands with a firm grip, it wasn't too bad either. It was rather fun, hovering like this. But how could he get it to move forward? Just hovering was boring.

Merlin slowly descended, and decided to go with his gut feeling. His feet touched the floor and he pushed, hard. The broom gave a screech, as if it came alive and flew upwards, with extreme speed, almost knocking him off.

"Whoa, stop." The shout left his lips, while he gasped for air.

But the broom didn't stop. It started to bounce backwards and forwards at dizzying velocity, brushing against the walls, and finding the window opening in no time. Under loud protest of Merlin, who grabbed on for dear life, it flew out into the clear night sky, as if it had a mind of its own.

Merlin had flown through the sky before, on Kilgharrah's back. But this was a totally different experience. For one, it wasn't as steady. The broom swayed, bumped, went up and down, and all Merlin could do was hold on, feeling terrified he would fall to his death. And with his panic, his magic betrayed him, and the thought of landing was far away, somewhere deep down in his frantic mind.

He tried to orientate himself, trying to keep both his eyes open, even though that made him sick. He had to know where they were going. When they raced over the south gate, he knew it was the lower town. Thank goodness it was dark, or he would have been in serious peril. Not that racing around on a broom at breakneck speed wasn't peril, but still.

Not far below he saw a couple of knights stumbling out of the tavern, obviously drunk. Of course one of them had to look up into the sky. Of course he was seen. The knight in question gaped at him, elbowing his fellow knights, pointing. "Look, a man on a broomstick."

"Get real, Oswald," the others laughed and slapped him on the back. "You had way too much to drink!"

"I have not," Oswald slurred, but when he looked up again, the broom had already raced around a corner, and out of sight.

Merlin tried to will the broom to land, tried every spell he knew. His fingers were getting numb with exhaustion, and his mind skipped back to the silly conversation he'd had with Arthur that morning. If the prince would see him now. Why did he always get himself into trouble. He was way too curious for his own good. Arthur at least, was right about that.

As if the broom had read his mind, it turned instantly, and raced towards the citadel, and to make matters worse, towards Arthur's window. And no matter what Merlin tried, the broom didn't stop. This was really getting out of hand now. If Arthur saw him fly a broomstick, he would be so dead. A warlock on a broomstick, he would be beheaded. Maybe he could jump off?

Pulling with all his might to the left, the broom finally gave in, and raced towards the ground, while making a sharp move to the left. There was no time to even consider a yelp, as he toppled over and off, and landed head first into a pile of horse dung just outside the royal stables. At least his mouth was closed when he landed with an audible thud.

* * *

Merlin opened the door to Gaius' chambers as quiet as he could muster, and tiptoed into the room, hoping against hope Gaius would be way to involved in a book to notice him. Ah, no such luck. Gaius looked up from the book and the old man's gaze fell onto him, surprise very clear in those grey eyes. "What happened to you?"

"Don't ask."

"Did Arthur have you muck out the stables at this hour?" Gaius' eyebrow was rising, the indignant look on his face somewhat satisfying to Merlin, as it seemed to be for the injustice of chores the prince sometimes bestowed on him. "Wait, you were in your chamber just now, how did you..."

"It's not important."

"Merlin."

"Gaius."

He let out a deep sigh. There was no way around this. He had to tell Gaius, as the man would certainly find out if he lied. He wasn't a good liar anyway, which was strange, considering his secret. But Gaius always found out about everything. The man had the ability of mind reading, for certain.

"I..."

"Yes?"

"I put a spell on a broomstick, made it fly, jumped on it, and it wouldn't stop so it flew out of my window and we had a ride above Camelot, oh, and I fell off."

There. If he told it fast enough, it didn't sound so ridiculously bad.

"You did, what?" Gaius exclaimed, the shocked look on his face replaced by serious agitation. "What if someone had seen you?"

"No one did." Merlin answered, quickly, than caught himself, letting out a small cough. "Well, maybe one knight, but he was drunk."

"You know, you never cease to amaze me."

"I'm sorry, Gaius." He knew he looked sheepish, and he really did feel embarrassed, "but that stupid broom didn't do what I wanted it to do."

"I could have told you, my boy. Broomsticks have a mind of their own. They are hard to control once they are 'woken' up." Gaius stated, a grin on his face now, which he tried to cover up with one hand. "Now you know why flying on broomsticks has never been very popular."

"Obviously." Merlin couldn't help but grin himself.

Before they could even blink, the door was slammed open, and a wide eyed Arthur came stumbling in. His face almost as red as his shirt, and his hands shaking in a rather strange manner. "Gaius... Ah, you wouldn't believe what I just saw."


	17. Chapter 17

_Dangerous_

Merlin's trips to the lower town's market had always been a pleasurable experience. He loved the hustle and bustle of people doing business, the food stalls with all kinds of tasteful goods, like fresh baked bread or buckets full of ripe blueberries. And then there was the smell, of food, flowers, spices and herbs, mixed with smoke from fire pots burning on corners of the narrow cobblestone streets.

He had hoped to find some peace, while gathering supplies for Gaius and himself. A bit of time away from the citadel and Prince Arthur's arrogance. Why King Uther thought it was such an honour to serve his son was beyond Merlin. All Arthur ever did was complain and give him a hard time.

Looking up at the early autumn sun, he knew it was getting late. He'd better get back to Gaius, and start their evening meal. He actually enjoyed cooking, which couldn't be said for his mentor. After eating another bowl of porridge with lumps, Merlin had decided that enough was enough. He would prepare their food if there was time.

When he turned the east corner, to head back to the main gate and into the citadel, a strong hand suddenly pulled him into an alleyway near the smithy.

"What the..." He almost dropped his bag of supplies in surprise, only just steadying himself, wobbling awkwardly on one foot.

The round face of the short muscular man in front of him wasn't really familiar. Yes, he might have seen him once or twice, but he didn't know the man. Nonetheless, this man seemed to know him.

"I can take you to safety, away from here, away from Camelot," the man blurted, his chubby cheeks red with exertion, and a slight trace of fear in his eyes. "You're in grave danger."

"Danger? Me?" Merlin mumbled back, feeling stunned. He looked around, expecting something dangerous to jump out at him at any moment. It was such a beautiful day, and his magic didn't sense any danger. So why would this man want to bring him away from here? What was this man going on about, and why on earth would he want to leave Camelot? It made no sense, at all.

"Why is that?" He politely asked, at least hoping he would be able to calm the man, who looked frantic now, his eyes darting backwards and forwards at the street, and behind him up the alley. As if he was afraid someone might see or hear them talk.

"Boy, are you insane?" The man asked, his eyed bulging in shock. "If they find you, they will burn you at the stake."

Was this about, what he thought it was about? Was this man talking about his magic? Fear quickly crept up inside of him, and he swallowed. Had this man actually seen him use it? He'd been very careful lately, finally fully understanding that the use of any magic would get him killed. After seeing a man, a sorcerer, beheaded when he first arrived in Camelot, he still hadn't realised the impact. Gaius had made it very clear though, more than once. His magic was a secret to be guarded with his life.

"How..." He stammered, stepping away from the man. "How do you know me, and what's this about?"

"Your magic," the man whispered. "The great Dragon told me you were coming, in a dream. The one they make prince Arthur's manservant."

"Then you also know I have to stay."

"No, no, it's too dangerous. So, come on, hurry boy, we're going to the safe house." The man started to tug on his sleeve, but when he pulled back, a firm hand landed on his wrist and he was about to be dragged further up the alley, with no one around to see, to help him. "We can make a plan there, to get you out of here."

There was no reasoning with this man, and Merlin had the urge to yell at him. To let him be, to leave him alone. That he had a destiny to fulfil, and it was in Camelot. He wasn't even sure if this man had his best interest at heart. Maybe there was something else going on here? He had heard tales of bandits who would sell sorcerers to the highest bidder, or even to King Uther. The image of being dragged away in chains, of beheadings and being burned at the stake came very vividly to Merlin's overactive mind.

Before real panic set in, and his magic was already stirring dangerously, another man appeared right in front of them. It was as if he came out of nowhere, and Merlin wondered if he was a friend or not. If one of them already knew about his magic, was this man part of the group of bandits also? His magic was certainly ready to make an end to this potentially dangerous situation.

The man in front of them with the grey curls and brown cloak held up one hand, effectively stopping the one who was still trying to pull him along.

"No, Elric." The man began in a soft, intriguing voice that made a tingling sound in Merlin's mind, setting his magic at ease at once, in a peculiar way. As if a dozen butterflies were touching it. "This boy needs to stay in Camelot, it is his destiny and ours."

"But Iseldir, how can this be?" Elric asked, still holding on to Merlin's wrist, as if he was afraid that letting go meant certain disaster. "This is the most dangerous place for him to be."

"We will not discuss this here. It is neither the time or place." Iseldir responded in that same calm voice, while he lay his hand on the man's shoulder, who calmed down considerably. Almost as if that touch put his mind at ease. Elric also let go of Merlin immediately, and slumped, as if defeated.

"I thought it was for the best," he replied, biting his lower lip before gazing at Merlin. "I am sorry that I bothered you. If you ever need my assistance..."

Merlin didn't know what to say, or do. He stood there gaping at the two men, wondering what this was all about. The bandit idea had long since disappeared and all he felt was baffled. These men were only trying to keep him safe after all. Just the thought of people looking out for him, strange people, was overwhelming.

Iseldir smiled at him, and in that smile lay a promise of safety and hope for the future. This certainly was no ordinary man. "Go now, Merlin." The man said, and there was no hesitation in Merlin's step when he turned away from them, to go home.

He couldn't help but look back, one more time, but the two men were gone. And he was left alone with a heart full of questions.

He wondered if they would ever be answered...


	18. Chapter 18

_A Precious Gift_

Hunith silently observed her son, sitting on the other side of their crooked wooden table. It was almost time for bed, and already dark outside, but the young boy was totally engrossed in a book she gave him.

Merlin was a very curious little boy, and loved to look at pictures. This book was certainly full of these. It had beautiful sketched animals on every page. It always had an irresistible pull on her baby, who had, at one point in the past, used instinctive magic to make it hover into his direction.

After this incident, Hunith had stopped denying him the book, because she had stopped worrying about him damaging this precious item. She had realised, he was way too fond of it, like she was.

Merlin had one chubby finger firmly pushed down on a page, while his blue eyes had turned to gold, and his face was a mixture of amazement and utter joy. One by one, tiny animals wandered off the pages and onto the table, where they started to walk around the candles there, filling Hunith's soul with wonder.

She only knew such animals from the book. It had been a treasured gift to her, from Balinor. He once told her he had obtained it from a far away land. She believed him, as Balinor had travelled the world and was a wise man. How she wished he could see his son now, and how she wished she could seek his guidance when it came to these magical occurrences.

One of the detailed, lively looking animals lifted its little tusks and long snout, piping out a sound which reminded Hunith of a horn. It vibrated through the hut, making her look around in fright in an instant. What if someone had heard?

The wonder of the moment was lost with her thought, and she quickly moved over to Merlin, laying her hand over his on the page. His concentration broke, as he smiled up at her. With that smile all the moving animals disappeared into thin air.

How could she ever explain that what he just did was dangerous? She couldn't, not yet. So all Hunith could do was try and protect her son's precious abilities.

Both their lives depended on it...


	19. Chapter 19

_These boots are made for talking_

Even though it was very early in the morning and he was still sleepy, Merlin didn't mean for the spell to go wrong. Well, it didn't technically go wrong, as the little wooden dragon on the floor had come to life for a couple of moments. The only thing that was unfortunate; his pulled out boots, lying in a heap on the floor, had been in the path of the spell. And said boots also came to life, and not just for a couple of moments either... Great.

The way he always managed to get himself into trouble, practicing spells, was beyond him. Gaius would probably tell him to start using his head, instead of his instincts. Staring at his boots with a mixture of amusement and dread while they jumped next to him on his bed, he knew his mentor was right. Where's your head, Merlin? Oh, I think I lost it when I was born.

He'd made his boots walk by themselves before, but he had been in full control then. Right now it seemed like his trusty footwear were beyond his ability to stop them. He just hoped he had enough time to find the counter spell before leaving to do his chores of the day.

"Hello..." One of the boots suddenly piped up, the squeaky voice coming out of its nose.

"... Merlin." The other concluded, making a slight hop onto his pillow.

He knew he was gaping, his mouth open in an unashamed fashion. "You, you talk?"

"Of course we do, you muttonhead." His boots answered, stamping down on his blankets as if to make a point.

"We are two..." His right boot said.

"... But we are like one." The left one finished.

"I don't have time for this," Merlin stood up, pulling his hair. "I want you two to be quiet, so I can think about a spell that makes you normal again."

"Are you actually saying we're not normal?" One boot's voice actually sounded disappointed, while the other trampled onto the bed a little harder. "We carry your stinking feet and skinny body everywhere, all day, and this is our thanks?"

The right boot started to hop around in circles. "It's a shame that we can't kick your behind from where you're standing, because..."

"... You deserve a swift kick, so stand still." The other suggested.

"Will you two stop rambling!" Merlin closed his eyes in frustration, trying to concentrate, but there wasn't one spell in his mind that would be efficient enough to stop these two chatty boots of his. He needed to check his spell book, but he really needed to serve Arthur breakfast first. He was already late.

" We'll behave, if you promise to take care of us…

"… In a better way."

Merlin suddenly felt offended by that commend, which was ridiculous. These were boots! "I always take good care of you two."

"Ha, you call that care? You may rub our sides with a cloth, but never clean our bottoms. We need to be pampered, if we have to endure hardship and your smelly socks." His left boot muttered.

"Yes, polished, cleaned, we want to smell nice..." The other chimed in.

"... Like leather."

"You already smell like leather."

"Horse dung you mean..."

"... More like pig droppings."

Merlin let out a very deep sigh. "All right, I promise, now please be quiet until I come home."

"You're leaving us behind?"

"I have chores to do, but I'll take care of you two when I'm back."

"Are you going to do those chores on socks?"

"I have another pair of old boots." Merlin didn't even know why he was answering, but he couldn't help himself. He knew he always wanted the last word in, but this wasn't Arthur Pendragon. These were his boots... Just boots.

"Take care of us, now..." The right boot started to complain.

"... Yes, spit on it!"

"Spit on it?"

"If you clean us now, before you leave, you spit on us, take a cloth and polish..."

"...We might consider shutting up and behave all day."

At that point, Merlin dove forward and made a grab for both boots. He wasn't going to stay here and listen to boots. He was their master, and if they didn't want to behave, he'll... He'll just throw them into his closet and leave them there, until he had time to deal with them.

They tried to run, but Merlin was faster. These boots had no chance whatsoever. They wiggled, trying to get away from his firm grasp, but to no avail.

"No, not the dark closet..." One of them peeped.

"... We hate the dark."

"Merlin?" Gaius' voice sounded from the other room. "Are you up?"

"Yes," he answered. "I'll be right there."

Merlin literally threw the complaining, whining boots into his closet, and locked the door. He pulled on his clothes, another set of boots and went out the door. This was going to be a very long day, and he really wished he had time to deal with this right now.

* * *

Merlin skipped breakfast, but not before Gaius had pushed a piece of bread into his hands, with the order to at least take a couple of bites. It was always the same with the boy. He didn't have a notion of getting up in time, so he all but ran out of the door every morning, getting to work. Gaius was going to have a serious talk with him one of these days.

Before Merlin had slammed the door behind him, he had turned to Gaius, his mouth stuffed full of bread. "Do not open my closet, Gaius... I'll deal with it when I come home."

Of course that was the wrong thing to say. Before Merlin had even finished the sentence, Gaius knew he was going to check out that closet. He wasn't a curious man really, but if there was something going on, he needed to know. How else was he going to be able to keep his eyes on Merlin? The boy was trouble on the best of days, and Gaius, of course, was the only one able to fix things.

He quickly climbed the steps up into Merlin's bedroom, and for at least a while, he stood there listening to the solid thumping that came from inside the closet.

Maybe this was really out of his league, and he should leave it alone? There was definitely something moving in there. One little peek around the corner couldn't hurt, for sure... Gaius slowly, and very carefully unlocked and opened the closet door, holding his breath.

Before he could step back, two of Merlin's boots were flying through the air in his direction. He didn't have time to duck, as they came into solid contact with his chest. It wasn't painful, but it made Gaius lose his balance, and with hands swaying, a loud hiss leaving his lips, he landed on the floor, right on his behind.

Still a bit dizzy and taken aback he shook his head, trying to clear his senses.

"Hey old man..."

"...What on earth are you seeking there on the floor?"

"What?" He gazed at Merlin's boots, and these boots were talking. Actually talking, and making sense. Gaius had to pinch himself, as he'd seen a lot of strange magical occurrences over the years, but this. This was so typical a Merlin thing. That boy's mind could be brilliant, but at times that was a big worry as well. Why in Camelot's name would he want talking boots?

It was probably another spell gone wrong, Gaius concluded, his brow raising up into his hairline while observing the boots. And now the boy didn't know how to reverse it. That was very typical of Merlin as well.

"We are two sides of the same piece of leather..." One boot announced with proud radiating from its high pitched voice.

"... And we just need some attention." The other continued.

"Two sides of the same piece of leather, that isn't even possible." Gaius put on a stern look, but of course these boots didn't have eyes, so would they even notice how disgruntled he was feeling? Not just at these boots of course, although...

"It sounds nice though, don't you think?" The right boot asked.

"Very..." The left boot answered, "well said, brother."

Brother? Now, this had gone far enough. Gaius was going to drag Merlin back here, no matter what chores he had to do, and fix this before anyone found out about it. Though trying to get up sounded easier than it was, as these boots suddenly jumped at him, and landed in his lap.

"Don't leave us yet..."

"... Old man."

"Get off me!" Gaius grabbed them both, and threw them under the bed, while he scrambled to his feet. His mood was slowly going from annoyed to downright angry. What was Merlin thinking.

"Gaius?"

It was Merlin, standing in the doorway, a guilty look on his face.

"Merlin!"

"Are you all right?" Merlin asked, his face turning slightly red now. "I thought I'd better check on you. I shouldn't have told you about the closet. I knew you would be looking, I..."

"You should have told me about those boots, right away."

"I know, Gaius, it's just that, I was busy and didn't want to bother you with it. I mean it's not really important anyway, they are just boots."

"Talking."

"Yes, well..." Merlin stammered, then let out a defeated sigh. "I'm sorry, Gaius."

"You should be," Gaius chided. "Talking boots, really, Merlin."

Two small voices broke in from under the bed. "Can we come out now, is it safe?"

"No!" Both Merlin and Gaius exclaimed at once, which made both of the men smile. A smile that turned into laughter, and Gaius shook his head.

Life with Merlin was anything but boring, that was certain...


	20. Chapter 20

_On days like this_

It had to be one of those days, Merlin decided after he'd walked into Arthur's chambers very early in the morning, a tray of food in his hands, business as usual. Until he'd stumbled over a pile of clothes, a pair of boots and to many empty bottles of wine. Almost falling flat on his face if it hadn't been for some instinctive magic. Arthur's breakfast had been flying through the air, neatly landing on the nearby table.

When Merlin regained his balance, muttering about sloppy kings, he couldn't help but let out a sigh. Normally he would have been in fear for his life, using magic like he just did. But today he didn't have to worry about it, as Arthur wouldn't notice. On days like this, where Arthur had gotten totally drunk the night before; which happened a lot lately after he'd send Guinevere into exile. The king's brain just wasn't capable of processing normal occurrences fast enough while having a hangover, let alone magical ones.

All Merlin was worried about was the council meeting. He had about an hour to wake up his friend, wash him, put on his clothes and make him comprehend what was asked of a king nowadays. Not an easy task with Arthur being in his currently unconscious state, sprawled naked all over his royal bed.

It would take all his skills to get things done. It almost felt like a test, because getting Arthur up and out and dressed would take forever. If he were to use his magic again, he would be able to make a lot of progress in a short period of time. But knowing Arthur, he would probably wake up in the middle of him using a spell. Maybe he should use a sleeping spell, just to make sure this didn't happen.

He reached the bed, stuck out one hand and mumbled the spell. Arthur didn't move a muscle, so he couldn't tell if it worked, but he'd used it so many times before, he wondered why he even worried about it. He had to stop thinking and get to work.

Clapping his hands a couple of times, every piece of dirty clothing on the floor landed in the huge laundry basket. More clapping made the doors of Arthur's wardrobe fly open, a fresh set of clothes flew out and landed neatly on a chair near the bed.

It made Merlin grin widely, while he moved his attention to the king. His grin got even wider while he lifted his arm and Arthur's body came off the bed instantly, as if he was stung by a wasp. The only difference was, his body was as stiff as a doornail as he was clearly still fast asleep.

It felt so good to let his magic roam free at times, and the excitement and fun of it, using it in a situation which wasn't perilous for once, made Merlin almost laugh out loud. He could stifle it, as he really didn't want to wake up the man in front of him. He wondered if he should actually wash him, but decided against it, as the cold water might wake him up by accident. Only dressing it was for today.

Clothes flew through the air once more, and as if invisible hands were moving them around, they dressed the king in no time at all. His royal robe was the last challenge. If he could turn Arthur around a bit, it would be able to drape itself in one fluid motion.

In a lazy fashion Merlin let his thumb make circles in the air. It instantly resulted in Arthur turning on his heels, and turning once more. The faster his thumb moved, the faster Arthur turned, and if he'd been awake he would definitely have gotten very dizzy. But all that came out of him was a loud snore, while his arms waved up and down to keep his body balanced. Merlin watched it in silent awe for a moment, and then he had to swallow another loud snort. This shouldn't be funny, but it was.

Almost done. All he had to do was position Arthur on the bed again, and wake him up. He could always tell the man he fell asleep wearing clothes the night before. He wouldn't remember anyway. One more circle of his thumb, just one...

The door opened and Gaius stood there with his arms crossed over his chest. A disapproving gaze in his eyes, and of course, one eyebrow raised to the heavens. Merlin immediately realised he should have locked the door. He really was an idiot at times. Thank goodness it was just Gaius. Although...

"I thought we had passed this stage?" The man inquired, a hint of sarcasm in his voice.

"What?"

"Of you playing around with your magic."

"I wasn't..."

"Playing around?"

"I was..."

"Making Arthur look like a fool?"

"Gaius, please. He's been drunk, and you know how he is the day after. It would have taken me forever to get him out of bed and dressed and ready."

"That's no excuse, Merlin."

He knew Gaius was right, but the disappointment of it instantly let him release the spells he had been using to keep Arthur up. This resulted in the loud thud of a body hitting the floor, and Merlin could see Gaius frown painfully as if it had been him falling down.

"Merlin."

"Sorry, Gaius."

"Wha... What?" It was Arthur's voice, and the king was wide awake, gazing at the two of them through bleary eyes. "What the hell is going on? You better have a good explanation for this... _Merlin_."

"Uh, yes, I have." Why did he always have to think up quick explanations on early mornings? Gaius had been right once more. Using his magic for pranks always landed him in trouble.

"I'm waiting."

"You were uhm, sleepwalking."

"Sleepwalking?"

"Yes, you were dressing yourself when I walked in this morning, sire. But you were still fast asleep, which worried me," Merlin smiled brightly, which wasn't an act. He was glad to have found a reasonably good story. "Gaius here was able to wake you, but you landed on the floor before I could catch you, and..."

"Merlin?"

"Yes, sire?"

"Please shut up, I have a major headache."

"Of course, sire."

"I might have a remedy for it," Gaius offered, passing Merlin and glaring at him with a scowl on his face, clearly telling him their discussion wasn't over. "Then Merlin here can serve you breakfast."

Arthur swallowed hard and it looked like he was about to throw up when he slowly got to his feet and made his way to the bed, stumbling and holding on to his stomach. "I need to lie down first."

"You can't, you have a council meeting, sire." Merlin objected.

"You go in my place."

"You're the king."

"Just shoot me." Arthur groaned.

Yes, being the servant of King Arthur was never easy. Not even on a normal day. But on days like this it was an almost impossible task...


	21. Chapter 21

_**[The Last One Shot from this Collection... I hope you enjoyed, and thanks for all the reviews...]**_

* * *

On a Thursday

Pots, lots of pots. Each and every Thursday we collect them, Gaius and I. Well, I carry them, he walks ahead of me through the busy main street of the lower town. I complain, he tells me I should be grateful. For what exactly? Here I am, pots on ropes hanging across my shoulders, around my neck and Gaius doesn't give a damn about my burden, at all. All he can think about is concocting a new potion or remedy to fill each and every one of his precious pots. Who cares about working Merlin to the bone. He certainly doesn't, and neither does Arthur.

Every Thursday we arrive back at our chambers where all the pots need to be cleaned, dried and labelled. Guess who's job this is? Yes exactly, mine. And before breakfast please, Merlin, because after what's left of breakfast you need to run and see to Arthur's every need. Next to Thursday; pot day, it's also a full training day for Arthur. This means I need to clean his armour, help him get into it while he brags about all the noble deeds he's done. Noble deeds, my ass.

I'm already exhausted, and I just started to line the pots in a neat row onto a shelf. Gaius wants them sorted out, the big ones on the left, small ones on the right, and in the meantime I notice Gaius eating his porridge at the table. The sight makes my mouth water and stomach growl, and I don't even like the watery porridge much. I haven't had time to eat since yesterday afternoon. Not as if Gaius has noticed it. He never does. And with all the pots still standing on the floor, waiting to get a spot on the shelf, I can feel breakfast slipping away from me. It's not fair.

I work as fast as I can. Pot after pot, starting with the big ones when I feel Gaius' gaze on me.

"You forgot a couple, Merlin."

"I'm not finished."

"You should hurry, you'll be late."

"Going as fast as I can." I mutter.

"If you stopped lazing around, you would have had time for breakfast."

That's it. An angry heat is rising up into my cheeks and all I see is the offensive pots, standing there in their neat row, grinning at me. I'll show them, I'll show Gaius. He can find someone else to do his, his... pot work for him. I'm done. These pots are done.

I point one finger at the row of pots when I feel a burst of raw magic fuelling my anger. A little voice inside me tells me to calm down, but it's too late. I don't even use a spell, at least not that I know of, when my arm stretches in front of me and my finger waves in the air. The largest pot explodes into a hundred pieces, followed by the one next to it.

"Merlin!"

I hear Gaius' voice from far away, but I don't care. My finger keeps pointing and waving. Pot after pot comes to its end. It roars in my ears, while shards and dust fly through the air in a whirlwind of sorts. Just as I am about to blow the smallest pot to smithereens, it seems to gaze at me. The tiny clay object has an intriguing design, and when I look closer I see the druid symbol carved out near the bottom.

I gape at it, my anger and magic instantly withdrawing while my finger is frozen in mid air. What on earth am I doing? Why do I even want to destroy these beautiful pots? What have they done to me?

"Merlin?" Gaius' voice sounds calm.

"Gaius?" I blink and turn around, as if I'm seeing him for the first time.

I expect him to be angry. He has every right to be. But he just looks up at me thoughtfully while his eyebrow doesn't even leave its normal place. He's standing next to me in no time, and lies his hand on my shoulder. I am stunned by this gesture, and guilt suddenly makes itself master when I look down at the mess I've made.

"I'm so sorry," I stammer, the heat of being angry being replaced by a blush of embarrassment. "I don't know what came over me, I was..."

"Feeling sorry for yourself?"

I know my mouth hangs open, but there's no noise coming out. Gaius, as always, is right of course. I was feeling sorry for myself, again. Now there will definitely be no time for breakfast. This idea is not agreeing with my stomach. I'm such an idiot, I could cry.

"Come and have some porridge," Gaius offers with a smile of sympathy, taking my arm and leading me towards the table. "You can clean it up later today."

I still don't know what to say, so I sit down and attack the porridge with a vengeance, while Gaius shakes his head. Sometimes I wonder, over a spoonful of food, why he hasn't send me home yet. The man must have the patience of a saint. I would have thrown me out a year ago. Even though I don't always see, or want to see it, he cares for me. I owe him another apology.

"I'm really sorry about the pots, Gaius. I will do my best to replace them, I promise."

"Next Thursday is soon enough, Merlin," he smiles at me. "But, I should really teach you to control your instinctive magical abilities again it seems."

"Before next Thursday?" I manage a smile and try my most endearing look. At least I hope I do.

Thank goodness Gaius can't help but laugh.

"Yes, my boy, before next Thursday."

 **The End**


	22. Chapter 22

_Sorcerer_

How could I have been so stupid. Gaius had warned me about it more than once, but do I ever listen to the man? No, I had to use magic and somebody saw it. That somebody had told someone else, and before I knew what was happening, a group of at least twelve angry men had grabbed me, beat me hard enough that my head felt like exploding, and had dragged me into the forest shouting 'sorcerer' in my ears.

The day had started out really well. I had been on a hunting trip with Prince Arthur, and I had been very pleased with myself that I'd remembered what to bring along. Working for the prince wasn't always easy, as the man could explode at any given moment, preferable when he thought I did it all wrong of course.

At the end of a long day, we had found a nice clean tavern in a small village, and I took care of the horses while Arthur went inside for a drink. Sunset had sneaked up on me, and I had made a small light appear in mid air, to see what I was doing. Yes, how could I have been so stupid...

I didn't have time to shout for help, as one blow to my head had been enough to silence me. Of course I could have used magic to get away, but then Arthur would have found out about me. That was something I had to avoid at all costs. But when these men hurriedly tied me to a tree while they started to pile fire wood around my feet, I knew I must do something. I only wished my numbed mind had come up with something, right there and then. Anything else than the nightmare that unfolded in front of me...

* * *

I have become immerged into a world of fear and pain when the first flames reach up above my boots, finding their way through the fabric of my trousers. There's no strength in me to fight, even though my magic fills my body. I know it won't be long until it takes over, the way it instinctively does when I'm in mortal danger.

I feel tears run down my cheeks, as the smoke reaches my eyes, and the sound of racking coughs reach my ears, as well as the crackling sparks of fire. I have to get loose, I need to... My magic needs to...

Someone pulls me clear of the suffocating smoke and licking flames. Everything's blurry and I close my eyes as a wave of dizziness overtakes me. I can't even cough anymore, as it hurts too much. Everything hurts to much, and I am so tired, my legs no longer wish to carry me. But the strong arms that pulled me away from death, hold me up; even if it's barely, and my arm reaches up while my hand grabs hold of this lifeline. It's a very familiar presence reminding me of Arthur, although it could be an illusion. I feel cold armour beneath my fingertips, and lean my head and body backwards to feel as much of the coolness as possible.

"Get away from him, all of you."

The familiar voice drifts in the wind towards me, but I don't want to open my eyes. I don't want to find reality staring me in the face, the fear in those people's eyes. The hatred I feel hanging in the air while the word sorcerer is chanted over and over. I can imagine the way Arthur must be brandishing his sword, high above his head in a threatening and determent manner. No one in their right mind would get near him in this state.

"He's not a sorcerer, he's my personal servant. I am the prince of Camelot, and you will not stand in our way."

"He's used magic." An accusing voice shouts from nearby.

"You must be mistaken."

"Would we burn someone who wasn't a sorcerer?"

"Did you give him a fair trial?"

"Well, no, but..."

"You didn't even give him time to speak before knocking him senseless," Arthur's voice takes on a dangerous edge. "We are leaving, right now. The both of us, so get out of our way."

These men are no match for a Camelot prince, not even a whole group of them. So, when I finally urge myself to open my eyes, I see them step back while Arthur's assisting me away from them. His arm a solid anchor around my back and under one arm.

And I know. My nightmare is over, for now...

 **The End**


End file.
